Not So Hopeless
by akahey
Summary: So many years and yet...not enough time left. It felt like he was finally losing...both his heart and his will. Sequel to HOPELESS ROMANTIC
1. Part One

**shortie: I decided to make a sequel...'cus I wanted Larsa to get a happily ever after! :D (This has been written for a long while, though. I'm just finally getting around to posting it up. heh.) It's pretty long. Sorry. So, remember to take breaks if you get tired. I don't expect any of you to read it through one sitting, but if you just so happened to, more power to you!  
**

**(The second part's not even finished yet. DX)  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy XII. Or you. But I definitely own the OCs.**

**

* * *

**

It would be one of the biggest events ever----and the most lavish----since Dalmasca's queen was wedded to the late Prince Rasler of Nabradia. The ceremony had been planned many years beforehand, which changes were often made due to many disagreements between both parties. Of course, one reason that the ceremony was extremely delayed was the simple fact that the young emperor of Archadia was not yet of legal age. Now that he was of eighteen years, the wedding ceremony could finally be put into action.

The ceremony was between Larsa Solidor, the last of the Solidor House, and Emilia du Cavalier, the second and youngest daughter of Rozarria's Royal Family. It would be not only a union between them but also an alliance between their once warring countries. She, too, was eighteen, only being a few months older than him.

Larsa was currently in his bed chambers, dressing himself for the long trip to his fiancée's nation, which would tire him out, wrinkle his attire, and ruffle his hair----if the wind didn't whip it out of place. It wouldn't be nerve-wrecking, meeting Princess Emilia and her estranged family; he had met them a few times before when he and the princess went on outings in Rozarria.

She was really sweet, though meek and shy. She had an innocent beauty, one which reflected the purity of her untainted heart and soul. Not to mention, she was also intelligent----basically a perfect match for him. However, he felt nothing for her but platonic love. It felt more like a friendship than a courtship, and more often than naught, the urge to break the arranged marriage tugged at him. Yet, he couldn't do so when his country depended on him. If he did break it off, war would most likely ensure, and he hated violence more than anything.

He sighed. Even six years later he was still an idealist, a most especially naïve one at that. No matter how much of a man he looked now, he was still that twelve-year-old romantic who wanted nothing more than peace and love in the world. Apparently, some things didn't change with time.

There was a knock at the door, firm and steady: Basch.

"Come in," Larsa called, readjusting his tunic.

The door clicked open. It creaked as heavy footsteps sounded, armor clanging.

"It doesn't take this long to get dressed," chuckled the blonde Judge. "Are you trying to make one last impression, Larsa?"

The teen didn't answer as he continued to fiddle with his outfit, looking at himself in the mirror while he did so. He let the silence envelope them, instead.

"Basch," the dark haired emperor finally spoke after a few moments.

"What's on your mind?" the older man inquired, studying the teen's movements and body language.

He took a pause before replying. "Is it selfish to not want to go through with this?"

"Yes."

Slightly surprised at the man's curt answer, Larsa turned to face him, hands dropping to his sides. He stared wide-eyed at him, trying to read his expression.

"I thought the answer was blindingly obvious," Basch clarified in a half joking tone. Then a in a more serious manner, he proceeded to speak about what the teen already knew but didn't confirm: "As ruler, you have already agreed to sacrifice yourself for the people's happiness and welfare; that includes love. It's harsh, but it's the truth. Maybe, in time, the two of you will come to love each other."

Basch was definitely right. Since he, Larsa, was emperor of Archadia, he was the one to help it prosper; he worked _for_ the people, not the other way around. He was more than willing to help, but a part of him was dishearten that he was willing to submit to a political marriage. Then his mind wandered over to Princess Emilia and how she felt about it. She never said much on the subject but instead, avoided it, always changing the topic. Maybe she was uncomfortable with it; he often caught her looking dreamily at couples whom were happy together.

Looking up, he addressed the Judge. "We should leave; if we wait any longer, we won't get there until evening."

The blonde inclined his head in acknowledgement. Larsa walked out of the room, Basch obediently following behind. His heart felt heavily weighed down, sadness leaking inside it with each step taken towards the awaiting airship. Why, though? There was nothing he was leaving behind as he moved forward…was there?

No, definitely nothing. Nothing but the hopeless fantasy standing at the altar with the one he deeply loved, reciting their vows. The fantasy of his beloved adorned in white, cheeks pink and eyes glittering with joy, a vision of glorious beauty. A romantic fantasy that would never be fulfilled, because it was just that: a mere fantasy.

It was just an unrequited love, but why did it hurt so much to throw it away?

-----------------------

When they arrived at the Rozarrian palace, they were caught in the midst of flustered Royal guards and servants. The air was thick with panic, yelling, and shouted orders. The ringing of metal and armor tended to drown out parts of given commands and nervous conversation as the guards marched through the halls. No one paid attention to the emperor of Archadia nor even to the full-armored Judge; they were left standing at the airship docks with no idea as to what was happening.

"My lord Larsa. Judge Magister Gabranth."

The form of the Rozarrian prince hurriedly made his way towards them, bowing in greeting. They immediately noticed his unkempt appearance, anxious attitude, and wild eyes.

"What has happened, Prince Llewellyn?" Larsa asked, concern laced in his voice.

"Emilia has gone missing," breathed the twenty-three-year-old, brushing golden brown locks of hair to the side. "No one can find her, and she doesn't seem to be anywhere in the palace. My father has thrown an unruly fit because of her absence."

"Is that why the castle's in chaos?" interjected Basch.

"Yes, it is, unfortunately."

The young emperor quickly ran his mind over the information, trying to comprehend her disappearance. "When was the last time she was seen?"

Llewellyn paused, tightening his lips into a thin line before replying. "Early afternoon. After we had luncheon, she proceeded to her room to dress herself for your arrival, where a few servants noted seeing her enter her chambers. However, after an hour without a single peep from her, her personal maid found the room empty of her presence, the window thrown wide open. You don't suppose she went through that way?"

Basch was the first to answer. "It's more than likely. Not unless, she managed to get by the maid and the others without being seen in the halls."

"She's afraid of heights, though, isn't she?"

The prince nodded.

"Then, she must have had help," concluded Larsa. "Otherwise, she would have been spotted already. Do you know who?"

Llewellyn's hesitation was evident, causing the two Archadians to turn suspiciously to him.

"You know who helped her," the Judge stated.

"Yes," he softly replied. His eyes flickered from the ground to them. "It's her beau, Percival D'Aubigne. He's a scholar at the grand library, but he's more physically able than he seems."

"…a beau?" Larsa echoed in confusion. "Why wasn't I told of this?"

The prince flushed in embarrassment, suddenly turning meek. Basch couldn't help but scoff. "Apparently, he was the reason why she ran from the arranged marriage."

"…yes, however----"

"She shouldn't have been forced into a situation she did not want to be in, at all," Larsa snapped rather harshly.

The Rozarrian prince's jaw visibly clenched at how snippy the Archadian emperor sounded; it was the very first time he ever heard the youngster in such a rage. It clearly surprised him. The Judge only stood silently.

"Where is your father?"

"I-in the Throne room, my lord."

Larsa stiffly nodded, walking past the prince. Basch followed suit. After many hallways and turns, they stalked into the large room, the Rozarrian king irritably seated at the opposite end of the room on the dais. The queen was right next to him, quiet and calm. However, once he saw who it was that entered, he changed his demeanor.

"Ah, Emperor Larsa," he greeted with a superficial grin. "You've arrived. How was the flight? It wasn't too troubling, was it?"

"Not at all, Your Majesty," he answered politely, bowing. "However, I'm more interested in why you forced Princess Emilia into the political marriage; she had no interest in it, whatsoever."

He could have swore he saw a muscle twitch near the king's jaw. Anger flashed through his dark eyes as he stared in bewilderment at the young emperor's bluntness. However, he thickly swallowed the repulsive emotions that rose up.

"It is her duty as Princess to do anything that will enable her country and her people peace and prosperity. To wander around and fiddle with life as though it was a mere child's game is not only immature but also frivolous: a complete waste."

Vexed, yet still keeping his composure, Larsa refuted, "It should be because she wants to fulfill that duty, also. Without that desire, the duty is no more than an obligation, a task she has to do because it simply says so, and you have forced it upon her when her heart was elsewhere."

"I am King!" shouted the Rozarrian ruler, jumping onto his feet, face burning red and a purple vein throbbing violently on his temple. His voice loudly resounded off the stone walls of the Throne room. It was a shock that none of them flinched, not even his wife, whom sat at his side. "Whatever I say goes: My word is law! You have no authority here to question my ruling, even if you are Emperor of Archadia."

"Are you trying to bring us into war, Lord Larsa?" the queen softly spoke.

"No, I am not. I'm only pointing out that the princess' disappearance would not have happened if she wasn't forced into a union she did not want. I do apologize, however. We could still have an alliance without it," he added.

The king gritted his teeth. "I'm not sure that is possible----not without finding her first, anyway."

"Of course," the youngster bowed.

"Your Majesty!"

A guard rushed into the room, bursting through the double doors in a rather rude manner. All attention turned onto him.

"We've caught the culprit!"

"Is Emilia with him?" the king demanded.

The guard hesitated. "Actually, the culprit's alone, and it's a 'she.'"

"_She?_"

Everyone in the room wore stunned expressions, completely at a loss of words. Who would have known that a female was the one to help sneak the princess away?

Then the prince ran in, crying out, "Father! It's (Name)!"

The atmosphere suddenly became tense and quiet as the information was soaked in. Larsa felt his heart pick up its pace at the mention of the name. Just what business did you have here in Rozarria? What sort of relationship did you have with Princess Emilia and her family? With so many questions running through his mind and his heart jogging a marathon, he felt slightly nauseous. Basch noticed the change in the Archadian emperor and placed a steady hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"_Where is she?_" the king grinded out through his teeth. He was seething in complete anger.

Even the queen was quaking in her seat, though she looked more tearful than anything. Her hands were clasped over her mouth.

Llewellyn straighten up. "S-she's----"

"----here," you finished, standing right next to him.

Your abrupt appearance spooked everyone; it was like they saw a ghost. The king was the first to recover.

"Wh----what did you do with Emilia?" he exhaled.

Making your way towards the dais, you stopped directly in front of him, never once breaking eye contact with him. "She's fine; she's with Percival."

"That scholar?" he snarled.

"Yes, him."

"Where are they?"

"On an airship."

"Where to?"

"Somewhere. Anywhere."

"She's supposed to be marrying the emperor of Archadia tomorrow! How can you turn her into you?" he growled.

You shrugged in a careless manner, enraging him further. "That's the reason why she contacted me: She wanted to get away."

When you continued to talk, saying, "She didn't want to fulfill her duties as Princess of Rozarria," he screamed, "You have no business meddling with affairs that aren't yours!"

"Her issue became mine the second she reached me for help," you snapped, glaring. "You may be King but you sure as hell aren't God."

"Here, I _am_ God!" He waved his arms for emphasis. "And you are a fallen angel; so, leave my kingdom. BEGONE!"

"A----" you began but was cut off by another voice.

"You helped Princess Emilia leave," said Basch. "Did you know you could possibly spark a war between our two countries, between Rozarria and Archadia, by doing so?"

Larsa tensed up, heart conflicting with mind.

You turned to the Judge, expression hard and grim. Even if you were friends with him, it didn't mean the two of you would agree on everything. However, you doubted any of the Rozarrians knew you were friends with the two Archadians.

"Yes," you answered monotonously, "but would you rather she lived in misery for the entirety of her life because of her duty as Princess?"

"IT IS HER DUTY TO DO SO!" the king yelled.

"Happiness as a part of the Royal Family is rather hard to come by," agreed the Judge, ignoring the king's outburst. "Nonetheless, it is a sacrifice they have to make in order to pursue what's best for the country."

"Our dear Queen Ashelia of Dalmasca went into union with the late Prince Rasler because she wanted to----they both _wanted _it----not just because it was her duty to her country," you argued. "Emilia was unwilling and, therefore, forced into it."

"THEY COULD FIND HAPPINESS WITH EACH OTHER!"

"Which would take years!" You angrily turned to the now seated king. "You expect her to give up on a love she has held onto for nearly a decade to just----just endure a false marriage for the remaining years of her life?"

"False?" he repeated. "_False?_ How dare you come here and sprout blasphemy like such? GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

"A marriage without love is simply one of political matters, which both parties are only committed to it because of their love and their duty for their country. It is nothing more than a lie you suffer through in hopes things will be better because of it."

"GUARDS! GET THIS TRAITOR OUT OF HERE!"

They were reluctant to move from their spot.

"I have not committed high treason against you nor Rozarria," you grounded out. "I have not betrayed your nation: only you, and you disowned me, threw me out, and exiled me from my homeland."

"Precisely, and I do wonder why you still set foot here. Go and fly with that sky pirate of yours."

He waved you away. Yet, you did not move.

Larsa and Basch stood in complete astonishment, suddenly understanding why you were here and why you had helped Emilia escaped with her lover. They had only met you six years ago, introduced by Balthier, and even then, you were a mystery. Now, it made sense why you never talked about your family or your past.

"Just because I had no desire to live the life you had neatly arranged for me didn't mean you had to force it upon Emilia and cause her to flee, also. You have lost both of your daughters: now, what of your alliance with Archadia?"

You bowed, preparing to leave. The king looked livid but said nothing.

Rapidly thinking, the young emperor unexpectedly stated, "We could still proceed with the treaty----a-and the ceremony."

All breaths seemed to be sucked in at once, stilling the air with suspense. Even you were stunned, completely intrigued, and stopped in mid-step.

"At present, you have a daughter here. If she is willing, she could fill in Princess Emilia's spot." There was an edge of nervousness and hesitation to his voice.

Many pairs of eyes blinked at him: He had just basically asked for your hand in marriage. Then they all peered at the Rozarrian king: What was his answer?

"You would take the eldest, whose scandalous ways have harmed the nation's pride, as your bride?" he enunciated questioningly.

"She is still your daughter, Your Majesty, a daughter of Rozarria Royalty. It doesn't matter if you've disowned her or that she had wounded you and your nation, because she's here right now. If she didn't care, she wouldn't have come; she would have left you in the dark and allowed Rozarria to destroy itself."

"No, she is shameful" was his curt answer.

"Father, I----"

"Llewellyn----"

"Your Majesty, please," came the queen's tear-choked cry. "This would help bring our family back together once more. And (Name) is still one of your heirs, a princess of Rozarria."

Their attention was drawn towards her, the ever passive queen. Never once had she pleaded or begged for anything, and here she was, asking for her husband to concede, to assent with Larsa's proposal.

With a scowl, he finally caved in. "Fine, fine, fine. The ceremony will still carry on tomorrow, seeing as the arrangements are already made and such. Now, leave me be."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," bowed Larsa.

Everyone else (excluding the queen) mimicked the action and then left the room. Relief was spread over them all as the issue was resolved.

You were quickly ushered away the moment you stepped foot outside the Throne room. The maidservants made up an excuse, saying that they had to prep you for tomorrow's wedding ceremony.

"You already know what to do and what to say, milord," they waved him off, tittering as they ran after your entourage.

That was true, but it didn't help him feel any better; he really wanted to speak with you. He sighed; there was always tomorrow, before the ceremony. Hopefully, there _was_ time to talk about his decision. (And hopefully, you wouldn't back out of it because he didn't consider _your _thoughts on it.)

"I'm a complete fool," he groaned, placing a hand over his eyes.

Basch merely chuckled, the sound booming through his armor. "A fool in love," he corrected.


	2. Part Two

**shortie: I finally managed to rewrite this second part to my liking, so it's been finished for a while. Unfortunately, due to some technical difficulties and such (it's too long and rather complicated to explain it all here), we've had no internet (for a few days). However, we finally got it back last night, but my brothers, being the gamers they are, monopolized the only laptop we currently have in our care. *sigh* Well, I'm here now. :D**

**Anyway...onto the story! Ahem. When I was researching for information while writing this, I came across the _true_ Rozarria Royal Family...thing. Why didn't anyone tell me Al-Cid Margrace was from Rozarria? And that his family was the Rozarria ruling family? *cries* But, oh well. It doesn't matter now, and I'm not going to change the story to fit it. I sort of explained his position in the story, anyway.**

**Also, I would like to thank those who read this story, most especially Wings of Heaven whom not only favorited but also alerted and reviewed. :D This dedicated to you. Hope you like.  
**

**Well, enjoy this last installment for "Not So Hopeless!" (I'm sorry if there are some confusing parts.)  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy XII. Or you.

* * *

**

You weren't anxious about the wedding ceremony that would take place the following day. No, that wasn't the issue at hand. That wasn't why you were tossing and turning in bed, unable to fall asleep. Definitely not. The real reason was the simple fact that your opinion wasn't even taken into account----not even addressed. So, now you were angry because you were basically forced into participating in the marriage ceremony, which was part of the reason you left the kingdom of Rozarria in the first place. However, you knew that Larsa meant well. After all, he wouldn't do things like this if he didn't have a good reason. However, you knew that he was feeling guilty over it; he was a good person after all.

You sighed, laying a hand over your eyes. Larsa and his well-meaning actions. In the morning you would deal with this, if there was time and if you slept well----or at all. You would make things clear with him no matter how much time it would delay the actual ceremony----if there was to be one----and no matter how many guards, maids, servants you would have to dodge to do so.

It felt oddly like a dream, so peculiar and foreign, being woken up by a maidservant and then proceeded into getting dressed with silk, satin, and lace. After all, it had been years since you've experienced it. Once you were gone from Rozarria, flitted away by the sky pirate Balthier (and his Viera partner Fran), it was your own duty and responsibility to take care of yourself. Although, those two helped whenever you weren't in the mood or feeling too well.

You immediately fell in love with the freedom of being a sky pirate and pursued it with all of the passion in your heart and soul. It became your lifestyle, the air you breathed, the water you drank, the sustenance you thrived on. It was a glowing fire which completely consumed you from the inside out, and it was that same passion that shook young Larsa's heart when he met you, the very same that made him fall in love with you.

The maids powdered you with makeup, clawing and pulling at your hair, and then ushered you out of your bedchambers once they finished excitedly gushing over how gorgeous of a bride you were. You merely took it in and let it float through your preoccupied mind until it was nothing but a wisp of air. There were too many things for you to ponder over, to worry about, to doubt, to actually listen to the superficial conversations the giggling women were having as you strolled along with them towards whatever place you were headed. It was rather annoying but you simply tuned them out; there were more important things on your mind.

When have you ever dreamed of walking down the aisle, littered with white and pink rose petals, in a gorgeous and overflowing white gown, where at the end stood the tall form of your one true love? Maybe once when you were just a small child, excited about the beauty of a fairy tale wedding and being clothed in such lovely material. Just once when you thought it would be easy and obvious when you knew you had found "the one," when you were a romantic dreamer in the days of yore. It was too easy to fall for the unrealistic fantasies, which blurred rational and logical thoughts with airy dreams. However, once you grew out of that phase----more like forced to realize that it was nothing more than wishful thinking----you lost all of your girlish ways and intellect.

Because you were the eldest, your father, the king of Rozarria, expected a lot from you. So, he had hired the best of the best in the kingdom to help educate you about politics, mannerisms and etiquette, social science, all subjects of science, writing, reading, mathematics, and even dance and sword fighting. They filled up your days and your nights, never once leaving enough room for you to breathe freely or to relax. Those sort of days were rare, and whenever they came, you always took a hold of them. Of course, you snuck out of the castle, also, when you could do so without being seen. It was risky but thrilling.

Eventually, the king found out and enforced too many guards to watch over you. You felt suffocated and restricted, chained down to the boundary of the castle grounds only to wander around in anger and misery. He crossed the line when he called in hordes of suitors for your hand in marriage. The emotion that was fervidly pumped through your veins was definitely not that of joy. Being princess, you knew this was inevitable, but with the issues and strained relationship between you and your father, you wouldn't go through with it, not when it would destroy the very last of your freedom.

The distant happy cries of children reached your ears as you passed through the western corridor, your eyes drawn over to the sound. Looking out of one of many opened windows, you gazed over at the laughing chatter beyond the castle gates. No matter where you were in the world, nor what empire you currently resided in, the people were still the same: they worked, they lived, they had families, they laughed, they cried.

So, then why were so many disagreements and fighting and wars between the empires and kingdoms?

"Princess (Name)."

You apologetically smiled at the maids, tearing your attention from the outside, and walked forward, heels clicking against the stone floor with each step. It didn't feel right to be addressed as such, especially after so many long years as a sky pirate.

Political marriages were used to help built alliances and strong, peaceful bonds. Treaties usually included those as a sign of trust. However, your father being the vehement king he was only cared about having the strongest and the smartest son-in-law, whom would help instill fear and recognition of his grand power into every single heart upon the face of Ivalice. Unfortunately (or fortunately), you never were on the same wave-length as him. So it wasn't a surprise when you abruptly refused, denying your duty as Princess of Rozarria and humiliating----though, "insult" sounds more correct----him in front of basically everyone who inhabited the castle (and maybe some few nobles).

And thus, your banishment from Rozarria.

You couldn't say that you weren't upset when you were suddenly kicked out of the castle and demanded to leave the grounds of Rozarria within a rather short timespan. You were lucky you managed to or you would have been six feet under----because you knew your father wouldn't hesitate to "sacrifice" his own children for whatever reason he had. It was all thanks to the handsome golden brunette that you were still alive to this very day, for he had just spotted you struggle----it was the very first time you had been out in the wilderness because your father had no reason to permit you to trudge your way along the Rozarrian terrain----your way through the never ending inland plains, which eventually laid out to become deserts. Balthier couldn't just leave you to suffer. So, being the gentleman he was, he extended his hand to you and offered a place for you on his beloved airship, the _Strahl_. You were both eager and anxious to take up his offer, his warm brown eyes relieving you of your doubts and fears. His rough and calloused hand was unusually soft in yours as it you grasped it, his fingers lightly running over your smaller and smoother hand. It felt weird for someone----a stranger, at the very least----to touch you so intimately. Yet, you couldn't help the rapid pace of your heart nor the small electric feeling it gave you.

That was the start of a new beginning, of a new chapter in your young life. After sixteen years of endless duties as a princess, you had found the lifestyle you were born to take up: sky pirate.

Not long after you joined Balthier and his crew of one, you fell in love with the dashing pirate. You journeyed alongside them, enjoying the rush of the wind through your hair, the adrenaline high, the endless freedom, meeting different and eccentric characters all over the world. (You were even reunited with Al-Cid, your adored cousin.) But the one thing you loved the most was spending it all with him, Balthier.

He was a womanizer, you knew that, but he had the manners of a member of the Royal Family. He was humorous and witty, courageous and kind, courteous and charming. It was difficult to not fall further in infatuation with him, especially when he had the tendency to flirt with you every chance he got.

You had everything you could have ever wanted as a sky pirate, but it all no longer mattered when you finally managed the nerves to confess to him, only to have him break your heart. It was a year after the events of turmoil ended between Rozarria and Archadia, where you and your diverse company presumed the heroic sky pirate to be dead. That had nearly broken your heart, shaking your spirit. You were more than happy to find that he was still alive when you accidentally stumbled across his path in Rabanastre while you were sneaking a visit to the new Queen Ashelia. However, your mood was quickly destroyed as he calmly denied your feelings. His only reasoning was that there was someone out there who loved you more than he ever could.

You heaved a deep sigh, his words echoing in your mind, a smile stretching across your face. A breathless chuckle left your lips, catching the attention of the maids around you.

"Princess?"

You shook your head, causing the veil to twirl with the movement, dismissing it. With pursed lips, they turned back around and continued on.

Al-Cid had helped you cope with the end-result of confessing; he had just been to Rozarria and brought along your younger sister, Emilia, whom you haven't seen in the longest time. She was then thirteen years old and already so beautiful. You both embraced each other at once, laughing and giggling.

It was amazing what a reunion could do. You both talked of your lives and what had happened afterwards when you left Rozarria. Emilia had taken up your duties as both princess and obedient daughter, which you knew, without being told, tired her out. Llewellyn, being the only son and the next heir for the throne, had the obligation of studying hard becoming the prince his father wanted him to be. Unfortunately, since he took after the queen in terms of personality, he was often seen as a weak and meek person with no abilities to look after a whole nation. So, he was under a lot of stress and pressure to impress.

Emilia returned to Rozarria when Al-Cid went back. They kept in touch with you through air mail and often visited you when the chance came. (It was a death wish to bring you or to have you come to Rozarria.) Emilia sometimes spoke of a man, a scholar, and she would blush a deep red. It was obvious she liked him, but when she informed you of the arranged marriage between her and the last member of the House of Solidor, between Rozarria and Archadia, it caught you by surprise. She didn't seem too eager about it. However, she was rather fond of Larsa and liked being in his presence; she just wasn't interested in him as more than a friend, especially when someone else had already capture her heart. The funny thing was that she noticed even Larsa felt the same way as she did.

"We've never talked about relationships or love, but he always looked somewhat preoccupied whenever we came across couples," she had said. Then she meekly admitted, "I know I probably did."

He had never once "made a move" on her and always was his kind, mature self.

With this new information, you made a mental note to visit Larsa. You eventually did but he was busy with a meeting, so you weren't able to see him. Since you had no other plans, you decided to lounge in his office and wait until the meeting was over.

The last time you were in Archades was not too long ago. You had decided to pop in a little visit while you were on your way to meet up with Balthier and Fran. It was definitely a surprise to the dark haired teen but he was glad to see you. You immediately noticed that he was taller than before and commented on it. Soon enough, he would be towering over you before he was out of his teens.

Like the previous visit, he was stunned to find you in his office, his conversation with Basch trailing off. He recovered and greeted you with a smile.

You got the information you needed out of him once you asked, without revealing your ties to Rozarria (because you had forgotten no one knew about your past except for those two), but you noticed he was reluctant to answer. Basch helped clarify some things you didn't understand and he helped confirm some of your suspicions, unbeknownst to him.

You never asked about the affairs between Archadia and Rozarria again because you knew it bothered him----if his pained expression was any indication. Still, despite that, he always smiled at you whenever you came to see him. It made you wonder if he was just being polite as usual or if his schoolboy crush on you had grown. The latter would explain why he was less than thrilled to be a part of the arranged marriage, and it also helped shed some light on why he agreed to it in the first place. The only reason, besides the evident one which included creating an alliance with Rozarria, why would be the simple fact that he was trying to get over you, which meant he still liked you. You didn't know what to feel about that, so you shrugged it off.

…until the day, years later, when it would come up again.

Visiting Larsa throughout the years didn't exactly forced you to see how much he was growing. It was hard to ignore, and even harder to not notice was the skipped beats your heart made when he smiled that sweet smile at you, eyes twinkling with a brightness that wasn't there beforehand. You suddenly felt silly, selfish, and guilty for wanting him to smile like that towards you always because it was _your sister_ whom he would be marrying in a few short years. Then, he would become _your brother-in-law_, whether he knew it or not. So it was wrong to start feeling something towards him when you had wanted it to end in the beginning, when you had wanted Balthier instead. With those last thoughts, you went on a long journey to clear your mind and sort out your emotions. Unfortunately, you didn't get your peace because he plagued you when you were awake and at night, in your dreams, and Emilia sent frantic letters about her uneasiness and doubts of the marriage, of her duties, of the king.

Percival D'Aubigne, the scholar whom she fell for, wrote you a lengthy letter telling you of their situation. In it, he pleaded with you to help them, to save her. It was so much to ask from you when you weren't in the best of conditions. Still, you agreed to help them get away, even when the consequences were dire. They wanted to run right now, when the wedding was still so far off, but you knew better. If they did that, they would easily be found and crucified.

Time, you told them, give it some time. Not only did they need it, but so did you in order to pull yourself together.

While they went through their daily activities, you went on beast hunts, treasure hunting, and aimless travels while planning out the escape for them. The marriage couldn't be cancelled, because chaos was more than likely to ensue. Actually, chaos would ensue no matter what sort of decision or action was taken.

Nothing good would come from running away, but because Emilia's situation greatly reminded you of yours and it hurt you to let her suffer for the rest of her young life (not even when Larsa would be her mate), you had to help her and Percival. That meant _you_ would suffer in her place, and you were willing to do so, to confront your father and be thoroughly punished----through death. It was an extremely twisted solution, but since you had no power, no authority to change what had already been decided, it was the only way to free her. Yet, something in you broke down as you came to that conclusion, wings torn off and the sky suddenly so far from your reach.

Sneaking into the castle (in the early hours of the morning) wasn't particularly difficult despite the long years since you last set foot there. You met up with Percival and took a creative detour to get to Emilia's chambers. As quietly as she could, she slipped out of bed, fully dressed, hoisted her bag of clothes to you as Percival helped her carefully climb the ledge along the outside wall from the balcony. Then you three made your way as quickly and inconspicuously as possible out of the castle, where your oversized but stealthy scooter laid hidden in the bushes. You ushered them on, the engine noiselessly purring, and drove off to the awaiting airship six miles north of the capitol. The airship took off for Archadia, towards the Balfonheim Port. There they dropped you off, to their puzzlement. You only urged them to continue on, to find a new life and that you would notify them of when it would be safe to return. Emilia hugged and kissed you goodbye, tears welling up in her eyes. Percival pulled you into an awkward but warm embrace, thanking you.

That was the very last you saw of them, the sun's golden rays lighting up the cool blue sky. _That was two days ago._

You had intended on sleeping but since the trip back to Rozarria would take a while, you could nap then. As you walked through the waking port town, you breathed in the lovely scent of the sea on the wind and the freshness of the day, for it would ultimately be your very last. You went to the house Balthier let you occupy and prepared for your judgment.

You bathed.

You nicely dressed yourself in your modest sky pirate attire.

You fixed your hair.

You ate.

Then you returned to the airship docks, tossing a fat bag of gil towards your designated pilot, whom caught it in his bewilderment but gleefully grinned as he rushed to his airship. His only job was to take you to the capitol of Rozarria and drop you off there. From there, you would barge into the castle unannounced, fully ready to face whatever or whomever waited for you within its walls. The only thing you weren't expecting was the presence of Larsa and Basch (in full Judge armor), the former whom defended Emilia _and_ saved you from being persecuted for your rather traitorous actions.

Smiling somewhat sadly to yourself, you abruptly stopped walking as soon as the maids did. They stuck the bouquet of flowers in your hands, fixing every little thing they found wrong with your appearance, and squeaked away as the double doors to the throne room creaked open. You slightly tilted your chin up and sucked in a deep breath, letting it out. As the notes of a wedding march played, you slowly and carefully ambled your way down the aisle, the crowded room of guests all standing. There were whispers and quiet exclamations ("That's not Princess Emilia, is it?" "Was Emilia always this tall?" "She sure looks different.") as you passed each row. Apparently, no one had clued in the guests that your dear sister had ran away and you had taken her place as the bride. A grin tugged at your lips at that realization.

Turning your attention towards the end of the aisle, you saw the tall form of Larsa nervously fidget with his sleeve, Basch standing a few feet away from him. You caught his eye, and he was shocked for a moment or two before smiling adoringly at you, your heart fluttering. You happily returned it, disregarding the whispered conversations and the heated gossip abruptly roaming around the cavernous room, finishing the stride to the dais. Hesitatingly, he took your hand in his, your fingers curling over his in an act to reassure him. He gently squeezed your hand in response, cheeks powdered pink, eyes bright, as he turned to face the priest. You mimicked him, euphoria bubbling in your abdomen.

Larsa certainly was hopeless no more. At least, not when he was finally able to marry the woman he had loved for the entirety of six years----with more to come. Even you had managed to get the wedding you had dreamed up as a child, and the feeling it gave you was definitely better than the simple childish elation you had thought it would be.


End file.
